


So Much for Starbucks

by Shiredancer (SallyJ)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Gen, TS Concrit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 17:56:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallyJ/pseuds/Shiredancer
Summary: The guys meet -- sort of -- in a coffee shop.  Jim leaves with a mistaken impression of what's going on.  (Written for the Chatzy Concrit #10 prompt “Coffee”.)





	So Much for Starbucks

**Author's Note:**

> So the Chatzy group was talking about coffee shop AUs and due to a paucity of those fics in TS fandom, we decided our next concrit prompt would be coffee. Well, I'm pretty sure I've never read a coffee shop AU for any fandom and have a pretty slim understanding of the trope, but here's my take on what it might be. Apologies in advance for blatant ignorance of the trope... and coffee (tea for me, please).

Jim Ellison trudged toward the coffee shop on the corner, nursing a headache the size of Kansas. God, what a week. Today was the third doctor in as many days telling him there was absolutely nothing wrong with him or his whacked-out senses. Physically, that is. The implication that his problems might be psychological jived with his own opinion that he was going insane. Utterly depressed at this thought, he shoved the door open and took a stool at the counter.

There was a college-looking kid behind the counter, jittering around as he washed coffee cups. He glanced up with a quick smile as Jim sat down. “Coffee? Espresso, latte – or maybe tea? What’ll you have? Gotta say, man, you look like you could really use a jolt of caffeine.” His nametag read “Blair.”

Jim was about to snap at him to bring a cup of joe fast, but he was hit suddenly with the most _amazing_ fragrance. His headache had shrunk to the size of Delaware as he inhaled deeply.

“Wow, bring me whatever’s brewing right now. Black, please.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little, drawing in that fantastic aroma like it was the elixir of life.

Blair Sandburg raised his eyebrows at the almost erotic display of sensual pleasure, then shrugged and poured a cup from the machine. He watched as Jim lifted the cup to his lips.

“Aaaaaah…. God, this is good.” Jim swallowed the first sip and inhaled again, feeling the last of the headache dissipate with the steam. “I’ve **never** had coffee this good. What **is** it??”

The kid’s eyebrows lifted again. “Um, this is a Starbucks, man. It’s just, y’know, Starbucks coffee. The plain kind. Nothing fancy.”

Jim looked into his cup as if it held the mysteries of the universe. “_This_ is Starbucks? Who knew…”

Blair felt awkward; he hadn’t even done his barista schtick yet, mesmerized instead by this guy acting like he was drinking the last – and best – cup of java in the world. He pulled himself together and grinned. “So, how’s your day been?”

Eyes closed, Jim sipped some more before muttering, “Pretty shitty, actually. Everything’s too bright or too loud or too itchy, and the damn doctors can’t find anything wrong.” And why, he wondered, was he pouring out even this much of his soul to a long-haired, earring-wearing hippie wannabe working in a Starbucks, for crying out loud? It was like the smell of that coffee was just rolling him along in some dazed euphoria. The kid came closer and the feeling intensified.

Blair gazed thoughtfully at Jim. “But things smell okay, right? And you sure like the taste of the coffee.” _Because no way could there be more than one or two senses involved here -- Blair Sandburg doesn’t have **that** kind of luck._

“Right now everything’s good, for a change. But for weeks all my senses have been haywire – including smell, taste, you name it. It’s, uh, not easy to live with.” Aware that he was rambling, and completely nonplussed as to why, Jim glared at the kid. “Get me one of these to go. I need to hit the road.”

Blair filled a paper cup with the rich brew while he pondered the guy’s symptoms. A rising excitement made his hands shake as he fitted a plastic lid to the drink. “So… _all_ your senses are wonky, huh? Listen, I know a guy who might be able to help you – here’s his card. Go see the man! You won’t regret it. You need information, not doctors.”

“Look, Chief, just give me the coffee, okay? I don’t need any advice. Keep the change.” Jim headed out the door.

Damn. He hadn’t gone half a block when the headache returned full force. He peered at the cup in his hand, took a tentative sip. Nothing. In fact, it was starting to smell oily and taste burnt. The headache grew to the size of Texas.

Starbucks, huh. Overrated.


End file.
